Dark Companion
by ThetaWolfe
Summary: Set after EOT Part 2 except David Tennant is still the Doctor because I say so. The TARDIS, tired of seeing her Doctor breaking around the edges, sets out to find him someone who could help him heal. Unfortunately it happens to be on a desert planet.
1. Mother Knows Best

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games. And if I did own it, then the Casanovain David Tennant would always play the Doctor. Oh how I shall miss you my eye candy.***

"_When choosing between two evils, I always like to try the one I've never tried before.__"_

_- __Mae West_

**Mother Knows Best**

To understand Space one needs to first look into themselves and find the missing parts. Once you realize how incomplete, how empty you are, only then can you begin to comprehend the intricateness of what it is. The vastness of Space is equaled only by the emptiness, for there is much nothing within the everything that is the Mother. She is timeless, contradictory, and non-existent. Transcending past corporealness and age, she knows no bounds or limitations, for within her existence is her nothingness, and within that there is something of great power which cannot be put into any language.

Space stretched out before them, like a long lost lover just out of reach but always embracing them, even when they wish it not, even when she dances within their lungs and steals their breath, squeezes them in her embrace, crushing them too tightly in her arms. She loves them even as she kills them, and they always return even when they despise her for what she has done.

Billions of diamonds dance across her skin, light up her eyes, and shine in her smile. Never was there once a more beautiful and unforgiving site as her, the Mother, and her many children fly within her embrace, going places unknown to any but her. They are of many differences, her children; they soar in unloving lifeless ships made of metal and glass. They litter upon her, leave trash in their wake, clouding her, filling her with their pettiness, and sometimes they steal from her.

She is as enchanting and loving as she is spiteful and unforgiving. Her children are simple creatures and are constantly in need of reminding of who-what she is. So she reminds them, over and over again, hoping they will learn and grow from her lessons. But she has seen little promise so far.

Only one true child knows how she loves and hates them, filled with discrepancies as she is herself. The child is nameless, like she, but is called many things. A contradiction just like her. His ship is not made of metal and glass; the ship loves her Captain as only a lover could. His ship has the capacity to feel, to love, to hate; her heart has the ability to hold it all.

The Mother leaves them in peace, lets them fly where-when they feel, because they love her as she loves them and he has already learned his lesson, a lesson that she did not teach him, a lesson that broke him. She could not bear putting her child through more pain, so she turns her attention elsewhere.

Another lifeless-loveless ship made of unfeeling metal and uncaring glass glides within her embrace. The children within are young, and as heartless as the ship they ride. Their lesson has not been learned, and it is time for another to take place.

She summoned her tears, let them flow out of her diamond eyes and solidify. They raced towards the ship and tore through it in her sorrow. It was time they learned, many wouldn't, but those who lived would. The Mother was sad that so many needed to parish for a handful to understand, but it was necessary.

It wasn't because she was evil; the Mother was neither good nor bad, incapable of being evil or noble. She was the Mother, and her children needed to learn, so she would teach them and they would learn, or they would die. The choice was theirs.

* * * * *

He wept within his room, tears refusing to fall from his tortured brown eyes, he wept without crying, he always wept without ever crying. His body still burned from the radiation that he had expelled, staying his regeneration yet again. It had taken far more energy then he knew he had, but this regeneration of his was stubborn and he didn't want to go. Yet again he had changed his history, rewrote what was once set in stone. But it had come at such a high price.

He had lost so many, so many people he had loved, and now he was alone. For the first time in a long time he was truly alone. Once again his people were dead, his species made extinct by his hand. His dear friend and worst enemy The Master, Koschei, was gone for good. His hearts could no longer carry the burden on his own. The TARDIS knew this, knew that the Doctor, the man she loved, was dying from within his despair.

It had been nearly two hundred years since the destruction of their people, the Time Lords, the Gallifreyan, and the wound was still as deep then as it was now. It would take many, many more centuries before it would heal enough for it to stop hurting.

She had thought it was getting better when the blonde with the name of a flower was on board, oh how her Doctor loved her, but then she left, never to return. He took companions after that, she was surprised. She thought that he wouldn't so soon after the girl's departure, but he did, and Rasillon help her if it didn't turn around and bite him in the ass.

Now he was more broken then before and this time there was no one else to pick up the pieces, nobody but her. But she could no longer hold the Time Lord together, not when he was cracking so, and if she held him just too tightly he would shatter and time would break. He was breaking already, she could see it. After he returned from Mars, breaking the fixed law and rescuing those who were meant to die, those who were needed to die, he started to splinter into thousands of tiny cracks. They were getting bigger.

She needed to find somebody, anybody who would grab her Time Lord and repair the damage in the only way possible. He needed a new companion, not just any companion, but one that could ground him, one he couldn't dominate, order around, or confuse with his obviously superior intellect. She needed to find him an equal.

She had loved his other companions, even the quick witted and even sharper tongued Noble child. But they were not his equal, they could never be. Her Doctor was of a far superior species, no matter how hard he tried to make them feel accepted, and they could tell. It was the was he walked on the moons and planets with names they could never hope to pronounce, it was in the way he danced under the sea of diamonds as if he were one with the universe, it was in his eyes as he gazed at something in which amused him. It was even in the way he spoke, as if he was explaining why the sky is blue to a very small child, and they still didn't understand. No matter how she loved them, they were not her Doctor's equals.

So the TARDIS did something she hadn't done in years, activating her central systems she jumped through time and space without her Doctor's permission or knowledge. She landed without a jolt or sound, her arrival undetected, even by her one and only resident. She would let him grieve a little while longer, but then he needed to don his mask of joyful indifference once again and rescue those the Mother had chosen. His savior was here, amongst the survivors who danced across the endless sand, underneath the fires of three, if only he would look.


	2. Survivors AnonamousPlus One

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

"_There is no point in driving yourself mad trying to stop yourself going mad. You might just as well give in and save your sanity for later." _

_- Douglas Adams_

**Survivors Anonamous…Plus One**

He awoke chained; it seemed to be a reoccurring theme. His arms were pulled behind him painfully, the blindfold remained on his eyes, but there was a hole in it now. The bit was locked in his teeth again, biting into his skin and causing an ache to build within his jaw.

He smelled sand, blood, death, and sweat. As they were crashing he was able to get a glimpse of the landscape before the suns burned his eyes. They had landed upon a desert planet with maybe a dozen survivors. Too bad Johns, the blue eyed devil was one of them. He heard people approach, heard the slight limp that would be with the merc for the rest of his life and grinned in satisfaction. The shiv tip he had left behind was a painful remainder of who he was fucking with.

Johns walked in with a woman, smaller then him, probably less then half his weight. She smelled of sweat, vanilla, guilt, and deception. They conversed, he didn't listen. There was no need; he knew what was being said. The man posing as law wanted to put the fear into her, made her think that the caged animal was dangerous. Too bad he was right, or maybe she would have let him go.

They left, and as he planned his escape, his beast within rumbled. Pausing, he tried to figure out what had disturbed it, and then he felt it too. Something was coming, something ancient and broken, powerful, full of rage and storm, filled with pain and sorrow. It came upon the wings of the Mother, forever floating within her loving embrace.

Richard B. Riddick, escaped convict and murderer stood, chains hanging uselessly within his fist, and left the shattered ship upon broken wings. Something was coming, and whatever it was made his whole being vibrated in anticipation. He couldn't wait.

* * * * *

Jack had been in many situations ranging from bad to worse to fuck, but she was positive that this made the top ten of shittiest days ever. They had crashed, the Hunter-Gratzner, the big effing ship in the shape of a phallus…crashed. Not only did they crash, but they landed on a planet that was nothing but desert, a desert with three, count them, three suns. And wait for it…wait for it, a serial killer was amongst the survivors.

So lets review, crashed on a desert planet with no night, no water, and no fucking shade, with a pussy arts dealer, a cop poser, and a murderer. She could so go with some good news right about now, which by the look and the angry merc's face was definitely not good news.

The blue sun was just rising, the twin ones setting to her right, and she was standing amongst dead bodies. Yeah, definitely top ten shittiest days ever.

* * * * *

He awoke to the sound of an alarm going off somewhere near his left ear. Reaching up and over his head, the Doctor groped blindly for an alarm that he knew did not actually exist. A fact that took him far longer then he liked to remember. Finally sitting up, his crumpled shirt hanging limply from his arms, tie undone, and hair in disarray, he looked around his room for the source before coming to the conclusion that this was all the TARDIS's doing.

"A'right, a'right, 'm up."

Finally there was blessed silence, and the Doctor wanted nothing more then to curl up and get some not so much needed rest, but he knew that the alarm would just start again if he lied down. So instead he fought through the temptation and pulled himself into a standing position before he made his way to the control room. Sometimes his ship could be such a bitch.

"Okay, I'm here, now what?"

A screen flashed at him before he heard a melodious chuckle dance across his psyche. The Doctor walked over to the screen which showed the surrounding area outside of the TARDIS and then promptly shut it off and made his way back to bed. Well, that was the plan, and it would have worked if his ship hadn't started rearranging the rooms, so the door he opened always ended up being a bathroom or a broom closet.

He repeatedly opened and closed the door for several minutes before sighing in defeat. "Fine, you win, I'll go. Can I at least get a change of clothes first?"

The next time he opened the door, it led straight to his wardrobe. He didn't thank her, it was her fault any ways, but the gesture did not go unnoticed. She let it slide though, her Doctor was in need of help, and the person to do it was just several miles east of their position, so she would ignore his rudeness…for now at least.

* * * * *

The Doctor was usually a very kind loving soul with enough room in his two hearts to find the best in everyone, but at that very moment he couldn't find one reason to find the best in his ship. There he was standing in a sea of sand as far as the eye could see, even as far as his eyes could see which was a feat in itself, and his ship had just up and left without him. The second he had walked out of her doors she had meandered off exactly seven point two kilometers in the opposite direction of where he knew he needed to go. And he definitely needed to go in the opposite direction of where the Tardis now stood, he was sure of it. And look he even had a trail to mark the way; well it was more of a smoldering scar really, probably from a ship, a ship that had recently crashed. And on that ship were most likely people, people who needed to be rescued. And by rescued, that would mean him.

The long black grove in the side of the planet was black and still smoldering with pieces that had most likely been ripped off in the crash, some of which were bodies. He didn't look too closely at them. The Doctor stood upon the sand glancing back in forth in between his should-be-destination and his want-to-be-destination. He really, really wanted to get back to his little blue box and go back to sleep. But he also knew that his little blue box would never allow him to get his rest, so it was with a heavy sigh that he turned towards the path lit with fire and death and set out in his new journey.

* * * * *

He danced among the shadows, invisible to the naked eye, relishing in his freedom. Riddick sat upon the vertebra of what might have once been a majestic and large mammal, as Johns, the blue eyed devil, played Cowboys and Indians. He was trying so very hard to find his target, to catch the criminal. But they both were criminals, and two could play at that game.

He savored the thought of killing him, slitting his throat and hiding the body. Or even dragging Billy Bad-Ass's dead corpse back to the Gratzner and putting it on display for the others. Riddick almost got hard just thinking about it, but he resisted. It was way too early in the game to start removing pawns off the board; he still needed to come up with an effective strategy before he made his conquest.

What set Richard B. Riddick apart from the average criminal was that unlike the others, he was smart, he was very smart. He wasn't smart in the sense of book smart, as he did not have very many opportunities to study and just read as a child, but he was street smart. Riddick grew up in the system, so he learned at a young age how to defend himself. That was followed by him learning to antagonize, to poke and prod at people's buttons until they reacted. From that he learned subtlety. He learned to lay seed the sow of doubt into people's minds, make them react to others without realizing that they were the puppets and he was pulling the strings.

Riddick wasn't raised to be a killer, he was born one. Before, he had channeled his aggression, his animal, by joining the army. Things went to shit after that, especially during the Wailing Wars. The government thought that they could pin the deaths of his unit on him, not there own negligence. Well, they thought wrong.

Johns had moved on to a different set of bones, searching that area instead when his mundane tracking skills didn't reveal his hidden nemesis. Instead the last remaining crew member of the Hunter-Gratzner was hating refuge in the shade, just a half a dozen feet from the serial murderer. Shifting closer to the tiny woman, he could see the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as she glanced around hastily. He had to smother a rumble of amusement that wanted to escape from his throat, lest he give his position away.

He found it highly amusing how people always feared him and gave him a wide berth, even on a subconscious level. Fry didn't know he was there, but her more primitive side was aware of a dangerous predator lurking about, just within striking distance, stalking her, but like most humans, she shrugged the feeling off. She tried to rub the goose bumps on her arms away as she mentally assured herself that she was just being paranoid. Many a times that had been the last action preformed by someone before Riddick had struck, ending their pitiful lives.

Resisting doing the same thing now, he quietly observed as she was approached by Johns, who had long ago given up his useless search. They conversed, and Riddick was again silently amused how neither of them was aware of his presence. They only had to turn around and they would see him, but they didn't. The more evolved part of their brain convinced them that they were the highest on the food chain, the most significant life forms to ever grace the universe, and it was that same part of their brain that assured them they were only being paranoid, nothing was there. Just because it was more evolved didn't mean it was better.

He listened with half an ear as Carolyn Fry poured her heart out to the one man that would use it against her when an opportunity presented itself. That was also her higher brain functions tricking her into to trusting this man that hid behind his very large gun and very small badge. As she finished her tale of woe Riddick decided that he would let this slight woman live a little longer. She had some balls on her if she did in fact attempt to dump the passengers. It was what he would have done.


	3. Connection

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

"_Sanity calms, but madness is far more interesting."_

**Connections**

She stood alone in the valley of sand as her Doctor went in search of the one who called to him from across space and time. He would be gone for days, the Tardis knew, giving her plenty of time to repair what damage had been done. The Doctor's radiation had caused her damage, not enough to incapacitate her, but enough that something would have to be done soon, lest she find herself stranded…again.

Reaching out, she touched her Doctor's psyche gently, to reassure both of them. The Tardis could feel his frustration and anxiety ease a little as the mental brush reminded him that he wasn't completely alone. She then turned her attention to finding the other, the child born in a world of darkness, the monster living in nightmares, the Big Bad Wolf. She found him in a garden built of bones, dancing in his destruction. The Tardis could feel his hunger for blood, it was so strong.

It was a huge risk that she was taking, she knew, trusting the well being of her Doctor to this being created in death, but she had no other choice. Her everlasting Companion was self destructing and if his only salvation lied within a man who thrived in chaos, then she would take it.

The Tardis pulled herself away from the Child of Darkness as he took notice of her presences. She could feel his animalistic growl dance across her mind as she disconnected from him. She knew he was dangerous, but so was her Doctor. Turning her attention back to her repairs, the Tardis settled herself in for a long wait. Perhaps in the light of new beginnings it was time to redecorate.

* * * * *

The Doctor had been walking for over an hour; one hour, forty-two minutes, and seventeen seconds to be precise. Not that he was counting, and he was well on his way to being bored out of his mind. Before, he would have questioned whether such a thing was possible, maybe even mocked it, but now he wished he could be out of his mind, or this heat, which ever was easiest. The twin suns had recently set behind him; the giant blue ball of gas tinting the world before him. The planet was beautiful in its own simplistic empty way. It reminded him of the dead planet he had found himself on when he had taken that unfortunate bus ride through a rip in the fabric of space and time.

He had just crested another sand dune when he heard it. Somebody was moaning in pain from one of the cryo-tubes he was just about to pass. The chamber looked just like the several dozen others he had seen. It was charred on the outside, stained black from fire, probably from when they had entered the upper atmosphere. Several of the tubes had blackened bodies hanging outside of them, where they had been thrown so hard against the glass, it had shattered. Racing towards the noise, he bent down and pried the lid off as quickly as he could. With the aid of a broken piece of metal he was able to remove it in seconds.

A man lay inside, gasping for breath and barely conscious. Second and third degree burns covered the majority of his left side, and it appeared as if the escape handle had been melted into his right hand. Reaching down, the Doctor pressed two fingers gently against the injured man's pulse point and sighed in relief when he felt the steady thrum of a single heart beat. All of his wounds must have been superficial then.

Carefully and with a lot of patience one gained from being a higher being amongst primitives for centuries, the Doctor eased the unknown human out of his cryo-chamber and onto the unforgiving desert sand. He would need medical attention, the kind that the Time Lord could not supply, and he wished desperately for Martha Jones. But she wasn't there, no, she was fighting aliens alongside her husband, Rickey…no, that's not right; his name was Mickey, the metaphorical tin dog. He was happy for her, he really was, but the Doctor was again reminded about how truly alone he now was.

Cursing himself in his native tongue, he yanked his mind away from such thoughts and instead turned his attention back to the evolved ape, he could at least clean his wounds. The Doctor reached into his coat pockets, pulling out random objects such as a broken tea cup (which he threw away), an orange crystal from one of the many moons of Makav VII, a rubber chicken (no idea how that got in there), and a banana. Finally, just as frustration was about to creep up on him, he found what he was searching for. Three bottles of water and a jar of Jijuliak paste. The jar was glowing fluorescent green and looked quite volatile, but in fact it would keep the wounds from becoming infected while hardening into what resembled plastic wrap, keeping the sealed area protected from further exposure from outside elements.

Uncapping one of the water bottles, the Doctor poured it on the burns, washing them of sand and metal particles from the ship as well as dead skin. He didn't have enough Jijuliak paste for all of his burns, so he instead only covered the worst of them, paying special attention to his right hand. The human male awoke just as the Doctor slipped the other two bottles back into his pockets.

When he tried to push himself into a seating position, the Doctor placed a hand upon his mostly uninjured shoulder and eased him back down. "Easy there," his voice was calm and steady, yet held an undercurrent of unimaginable power to it, forcing the human to focus solely on him. "You've taken quite a tumble, so take it slow, okay?"

It wasn't a question; it was a cleverly disguised command, one that was followed immediately regardless. "I'm the Doctor, by the way…who are you?"

* * * * *

Crouching in sand and shadow, Riddick grabbed the near empty bottle of bourbon from where the Merc had left it. Johns thought he was clever, but he was constantly underestimating his enemy's intelligence. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck and was absorbed into his black wife beater. The bottle was just inches away from his chapped lips when he felt it. He wasn't quite sure how to describe the feeling but it wasn't entirely unpleasant, just strange.

It was as if someone had reached out and touched his mind, connecting them. The feeling was like cold water racing upon his heated skin, refreshing and shocking at the same time. The consciousness that had danced with his was clearly female, and though she was intruding upon him, she was not invading. The presence didn't go further then his surface thoughts, but after a minute of the connection a deep rumble escaped him in annoyance. The 'other' may not have been doing anything damaging or against his will, but she was a large distraction, a distraction that he could not afford, not with Billy Bad Ass just around the corner.

The consciousness slipped from his like sand through his fingers, leaving his mind once again completely his own, but it also left him with a strange sense of longing. He rolled his shoulders as if to rid himself of the unwanted feeling and downed the bourbon in two large gulps. It burned a path down his esophagus and settled comfortably in his stomach, giving him the false sense of being full. Grabbing some sand, he poured it into the bottle, filling it until it was at the same level as what the alcohol had been at and then placed it in the exact spot that the Merc had left it. He rose slowly, dusting his hands on his equally dirty pants before turning to head back to the ship. He wasn't sure why, but he felt the sudden need to go back as if something or someone was calling him there.

* * * * *

It had been nearly three hours since the Doctor had found Martin, the injured man stuck inside the cryo-chamber. They mostly walked in silence, the Doctor was too angry about the whole situation and too broken over the previous events to strike up a conversation, and Martin was too confused and in too much pain to care. He followed after the Doctor as if in a daze, the Time Lord suspected he was in shock, not really caring where they were going, but instead just accepting the fact that the Doctor knew what he was doing.

They were just reaching the three hour mark when they finally caught sight of the Hunter-Gratzner laid out before them. The once great ship lay like a broken creature upon the desert floor. Its golden hull was twisted and burnt, the back half completely missing, parts still on fire. Smoke billowed up in great black clouds of poison and the Time Lord could hear the metal groaning as it was stretched, burned and reformed in shapes it was never meant to take. They still had at least a half hour of walking before they reached the crashed ship, but it seemed to fill both of them with renewed energy and they sped up the pace.

Martin was bordering heat delirium by the time they reached the blessed shade of the dead ship. Though his body temperature was thirty degrees lower then the average human the Doctor was starting to feel the effects of constant suns as well, and had even considered taking off his long brown coat before coming to the conclusion that he did not want to carry it, nor leave it behind. His dazed companion didn't seem to notice the many layers the taller man wore, and if he did, he didn't comment upon it.

The Doctor's eyes swept across the area of the crash and he was able to spot several survivors. One was milling about by the large hollow dirt towers that reminded him of the homes of the insect like creatures of KavaPliaOrganTari. They were surprisingly similar to the termites of Earth, though they were much, much larger. The stout man looked like he was burying those who did not survive the crash in a mass grave. Turning his gaze elsewhere, the Doctor could see a smaller male making his way quickly back to the Gratzner as if in a great hurry, abandoning his obvious post as look out. His superior hearing was able to make out voices inside the ship, one sounded like an adult female and the other to an adolescent male.

The survivors were jumpy, obviously something had them on edge, and the Doctor didn't want to add any fuel to that already large burning fire so he was sure to make there presence known well before they were seen. "Hello!? Anybody home," he practically shouted as they walked under the shade. Martin was startled out of his daze and stared at the Doctor as if he wasn't sure what he was doing. "Hello!?"

The man by the grave started making his way over to them, and the Doctor could hear the ones inside the ship coming out. The stout man was holding something tightly in his clenched fist and it took the Time Lord several more seconds to identify what it was. He was holding a gun, and he looked like he was ready to use it. Raising his hands in the universal symbol of surrender, the Doctor hoped that they wouldn't be shot at as he had just gone through hell and high water to keep this regeneration, and he didn't want to loose it after all that he had gone through. He may not have been ginger, but he was attached to this body and personality.


	4. Need

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

_"I guess I just prefer to see the dark side of things. The glass is always half empty. And cracked. And I just cut my lip on it. And chipped a tooth."_

_-Janeane Garofalo_

**Need**

A gentle breeze of heated wind danced across the dunes, picking up tiny particles of sand. They waltzed momentarily with the wind, looping and twirling in the air before the breeze gently lowered them back to the ground in search of new dance partners. The dunes shifted, reforming as the wind picked up and stole more of their support for its own entertainment. The breeze then lifted and died off, miles before it reached the only living things on the surface that would love to waltz with it more than the near weightless particles of what was once a great cliff. Only one of the survivors noticed this, and sighed in annoyance.

The Doctor stood alone in the shade of the once great cargo ship. After the whole gun incident, things went from bad to worse. Martin had promptly passed out…from shock, heat delirium, or pain he did not know. Most likely all three. The others had helped carry the much larger man into the ship where it was cooler, not by much, but every degree helped. That was quickly followed by a round of apologies and then names.

Okay, so that part wasn't so bad, even if the only non human in the company didn't want names. Names gave these people meaning, made them more…real. They would make him get attached, and then they would just take off without a by-your-leave. After introductions, he distanced himself. He didn't want to know them, didn't want to get attached.

A whispered laugh across his mind and a gentle shove pushed him towards the group. Apparently his ship didn't care what he thought. He shoved back mentally in annoyance as he dug his red converse clad feet into the ever shifting sand. He _would not_ mingle, no matter what his ever beloved Companion thought. He was being childish, he knew that, but that didn't change his mind. No, he was going to stay right here, in the shade, doing nothing.

Well, at least that was his plan, until the screaming started. Zack, or Zeke, the guy who had pointed the shiny pistol at him not twenty minutes ago was screaming in pain and the Doctor moved to go help him, an action so ingrained in his very being that he didn't even need to think about it. This was foiled though as a thousand screaming voices joined that of the gruff man. But theirs was a voice filled with joy and longing, not pain. A cacophony of singing words rose up from below and the Doctor was frozen as they crashed against his mind and invaded his psyche.

The music was beautiful and painful, the thousands of voices wrapped around his soul and sang to each other, sang to him. It was filled with such sorrow, such loneliness, such _hunger_. And the Doctor couldn't move, couldn't blink, couldn't _breathe_. And then just as quickly as it started, it was over. The screaming stopped, all of it. Then there was just silence, a silence so loud and deafening that it almost brought the Doctor to his knees. He knew what happened, and now he understood.

His hearts constricted and the Doctor felt the bitter tinges of guilt settle in his chest. The gruff man who had first introduced himself was dead, he could feel it. The man was no longer there, he felt a great vast emptiness where his mind used to be. And the Doctor could not even remember his name. The Time Lord swallowed the bile that threatened to rise and turned his back upon the now larger and yet smaller group that was making its way towards the downed ship.

Another consciousness brushed his accidently. It was full of such grief, such pain, such anger that the Doctor just wanted to lend her some comfort. It was the woman that was in the original group he met. She was experiencing such strong emotions that she was projecting and the Doctor was far too tired to block her out.

He needed to be alone, he needed quiet, he _needed_ darkness. It was too bright out here, full of the living and the dead. He needed to block them out. The Doctor pictured his bed in his room on the Tardis, and how very far away it was. Biting his lip in anger at his Tardis, at the universe, at himself, he stomped off towards the ship desperately seeking somewhere alone. He retreated into the metal behemoth quickly, so he never saw the calculating blue eyes that were watching his every move, and the large unconscious man being dragged uncaringly by the group.

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

It was blissfully dark where he was, and quiet. A black abyss of nothingness surrounded him that not even his unique eyes could penetrate the darkness that touched everything. There was no sound, and when he waved his arm out before him he felt nothing, not even his extremities. A sniff deduced no scent and an inhalation through an open mouth tasted nothing.

He should have felt panicked with all of his senses off line, but he didn't. There was something out there just beyond the abyss, or maybe it was the abyss. Whatever it was, it was ancient, uncaring, and broken. Riddick made to move forward, further into the darkness, but the abyss shifted with him. He wasn't quite sure if he even moved at all, but he tried again, pushing forward. This time he was rewarded for his efforts.

A gentle question, more of a feeling surrounded him. The curiosity wasn't his and that was when he recognized this feeling. It was similar to the female that had eased into his mind like a cold trickle of water, but this one was different. It was clearly male, and instead of the gentle flow of a river, this one was a blazing inferno of unforgiving fire, a twisting typhoon of high winds, the bright flashes of lightning and the loud booming of thunder.

Riddick awoke suddenly as he was expelled from the abyss that he was now sure was a powerful mind. Metal encased his wrists, spreading them away from his body and chaining him in place. He could hear the soft thuds of leather boots on the grating of what remained of the Hunter-Gratzner. Female, five foot six, 54 kilos. Seems the 'Captain' was going to pay him a visit, but at the moment the not-so escaped convict could care less. An uncommon grin spread widely across his face and an eerie chuckle rumbled from his chest. The Storm was here.

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

His eyes snapped open suddenly as he gasped. Black pupils were completely blown, obscuring the dark brown irises as the Doctor pulled gulps of air into his lungs. Something stirred within him, something primal, dangerous, and long forgotten. A low rumbling growl ripped straight from his chest, reverberated around the abandoned cockpit. Hands gripped the broken and twisting metal to keep himself in place.

A consciousness had just brushed his mind, no not brushed…_invaded_. Just minutes before he had been enjoying the silence, the absence of everything, and he had let his mind wander as he slipped into a light meditation. He had not even been ten minutes into his calming ritual when he felt something on the edges of his psyche, just barely caressing his barriers. He ignored it.

Not many knew about the Time Lords, and almost none knew about their mental connection. It was like an intricate web that had connected his entire species together. Each person was their own spider with their own unique web, some areas stronger and thicker than others through personal relationships. The middle being family and close friends, growing in distance and thinning the further it went out.

The spider could walk upon the web, accessing thoughts and memories of others if the connection was strong enough. The web could be used for communication or a simple brush of emotions when needed. But after the incident with the Master and Rassilon, the Doctor once again found himself a spider with no web.

After the first destruction of his people, the Doctor had done something only the leader of their people ever needed to do: he built a mental barrier to protect his mind. He placed his spider in a box so another web could never be built, because it hurt _so_ _very _much. But after a while, he let his spider loose, and a tentative web was being formed. The Tardis in the middle with Rose.

After the strings of his flower were cut, he filled them with other people, other strings. But it wasn't the same and they didn't fit quite right. His web was tangled, twisted, malformed, and missing in many places, but it was _there_. To have it yet again ripped from him leaving nothing behind but deep groves that cut into his mind as it was slowly torn from him was torture.

The scarring would never go away and this time he was determined to keep his spider boxed away from the universe itself. And so he ignored the presence that touched his. Too bad the universe just didn't care. He never felt a thing as the other invaded his mind. The presence seemed to literally dissolve into his psyche, not pushing past his barriers, but melting though them.

Once upon a time he would have answered such questing with anger or even shock. But now he just didn't seem to care all that much. Let the being take what it wanted and leave him in peace, or pieces. He just didn't care anymore.

After a while though, when the questing other did nothing, curiosity was the emotion he settled on as he went to investigate what had so easily ninja'd its way into his mind. A probing question to his beloved ship was answered with gentle laughter and so he searched for the other on his own.

The entity seemed to have bypassed his thoughts and memories and was just floating in the abyss of his consciousness. How polite of it. The Doctor was slightly grateful, he wasn't sure if he could handle his memories being dredged up from the recesses of his mind, but that didn't mean he appreciated the presence.

A gentle probe of an emotion, a question, layered curiosity. What answered the Time Lord had the Doctor almost seizing as his body trembled. The mind was pure primal _need_. It wasn't all that evolved or advanced, but it was fascinating. Never before had he felt anything quite so animal and so _very_ human.

A choked gasp escaped his lips as he pushed his forehead against the still heated metal trying desperately to ground himself. So easily could he be lost in the mind of the other, and the Doctor wasn't quite sure if that was a bad thing. The other made his hearts pound and his blood sing like none other before and it scared him.

It was too much, and the Doctor quickly, but gently, pushed the other out of his mind. The other went willingly and for that the Doctor was pleased. If the other entity had decided to stay the Time Lord wasn't quite sure if he had enough power to force _him_ out. And he was positive now that the other was male.

Head still pressed forcefully against the metal, eyes once again clenched tightly shut, the Doctor took deep calming breathes. He could hear his hearts beating an unsteady tempo loudly in his ears and the Doctor braced his palms on the metal before him as he hung his head. He needed to calm down and review what happened with an unbiased rational mind. But first he needed to distance himself from the experience.

Opening his eyes slowly, a whine of disbelief was torn from him. He was _hard_. _Dear Rassilon, what is happening to me? _He could visibly see a tent forming in his trousers, pushing against the coarse material. He couldn't remember the last time he had actually gotten an erection, had it been a couple dozen years…not since that dream about Rose. Half a century maybe. He wasn't even aware he could still get hard.

Still staring in disbelief, he tried to wrap his mind around it. A shifting in his position though quickly drew his attention away from the unbelievable-ness of the situation and back to his problem. Another sound was torn unwillingly from him, this time a groan of pleasure and need as the fabric of his trousers rubbed against his aching need. Maybe it was a bad idea to forgo underwear today.

The Doctor bit his lip savagely to pull his mind away from the pleasure, but that only made the situation worse as the pain seemed to have the opposite effect that he intended. His cock twitched in interest and the Time Lord quickly released the abused and now bleeding lip as he desperately seized control of his emotions and feelings. He was an evolved being for Rassilon sakes. This should not have been a problem for him.

Eyes staring fixedly upon the floor, vision slightly blurred, deep cleansing breathes moving his chest at a steady tempo, the Doctor _forced_ his body to obey him. Slowly, his erection started to die just as the temptation to solve the problem in a far more satisfying way almost overcame him.

Never before had his body been so difficult. Not even when his hormones were running rampant as a teenager. He couldn't understand how anyone could have such power over him, and the Doctor most definitely did _not_ like it. Or so he told himself repeatedly as his erection finally died and he went in search of the one who made his nerves tremble in anticipation.

They were going to have a nice long chat about invading other peoples' minds (hypocritical much?) and then the Doctor was going to put as much space between them as inhumanly possible until this whole thing blew over. Too bad things never went to plan with him.


	5. Meetings and Greetings

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

_"I know that you believe you understand what you think I said, but I'm not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant."_

_-Robert McCloskey_

**Meetings and Greetings**

Teeth clenched in anger, heart hammering in fear, hands shaking in terror, stomach twisting in want. Carolyn all but ran out of the 'holding cell' where Johns had caged the resident serial killer. Riddick was a mystery she wasn't sure she wanted to solve. He made her _feel_ so many different things that it left her body confused on what shade she should take, should she blush in embarrassment or pale in fear? Perhaps flush in anger? Her mind was a jumbled mess of survival verses sacrifice.

Look deeper, he had said. Amusement thick in his slam bred accent. He told her to look deeper, no…commanded. So, look deeper she would. She was just turning the last corner before she made it outside and came to a sudden and abrupt halt as she slammed into a solid body. Large male hands gripped her forearms, steadying her while pushing her back at arm's length at the same time.

A deep steadying breath rushed into her winded lungs, blue eyes glancing up, apology on pale lips before her thoughts caught up with her. A strange man she had never seen before was standing in front of her, smooth, uncalloused hands still gripping her arms. She remembered Paris mentioning more survivors, but in the wake of Zeke's death, Carolyn had completely forgotten about it.

She stepped back further, forcing the man to either let her go, or follow her into her personal space. He let go and straightened, she was grateful. His lithe body towered over her average height, but she knew that his wiry frame was deceptive, as she had just physically confirmed he was stronger then he looked. Carolyn hadn't even felt him stumble.

"Terribly sorry about tha', wasn't quite watching where I was going," his accent was similar to the antiquates dealer, but his seemed more genuine, less forced. A hand was put forth, followed by a name…sort of, "I'm the Doctor by the way."

She clasped his hand in greeting, his grip was strong but not overbearing. Doctor who, she wanted to ask…she didn't. Instead she just introduced herself as she took in his appearance. "Carolyn Fry."

He was taller than her, maybe by three or four inches, possibly more. Taller than Johns, shorter than Riddick. The hand in hers was smooth, as if he had never known labor. By his posh accent and suit, she deduced he was well off and maybe didn't need to work. But he had introduced himself as Doctor, she wondered what field.

Dark brown tussled hair was going every which way, as if he was constantly pulling on it. It looked as if he just got out of bed after a good screw. It was kind of sexy, but he wasn't her type. His skin was pale, not overly so, so he must get some sun, but he clearly didn't spend a lot of time in it.

His suit was blue pinstripe and he was wearing a heavy tan overcoat on top, she wondered how he could stand the heat. A tie in disarray completed the picture. Red high top shoes ruined it.

It was his eyes, though, that garnered her attention. They were a deep rich brown, but the ancient wisdom and never ending pain they held was almost tormenting. She looked away quickly and dropped his hand, taking another step back.

"It was nice meeting you," Carolyn said quickly, pushing her way around him to go outside. A hand grabbed her around the bicep before she got more than three feet, halting her quick escape. She inhaled quickly, flinching under the touch. The fear was returning and she wondered why she felt terrified by such a harmless looking man. She steeled herself, bringing back her false bravado and brought her blue eyes up to glare at the strange man who had no name.

"Don't go down there," it was a warning, and it caught her off guard. How could he possibly know? So lost in thought was she that she didn't even notice when he left, going in the direction she herself had just came from. By the time she gathered her wits, she was once again alone in the hallway, wondering what the hell had just happened.

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

Riddick sat back down slowly as the 'Captain' left to do as he commanded. Maybe if he was lucky she would die down there…one could only hope. He could just picture her now, body broken upon the desert floor, bleeding out as the life slowly left her eyes. He was still chuckling in amusement when he felt it. The Storm was moving, and it was coming his way.

Muscles coiled in anticipation as he scented the air. He could smell the other, his scent was almost intoxicating and Riddick restrained himself from scenting more. It was addicting, and the Furyan needed to be in control of the situation, not drunk on a smell. The scent was ancient, almost timeless, and completely foreign. He couldn't identify one specific trait and that irritated him.

Johns was easy to sniff out, he smelled of deception and greed, mixed with morphine and the sickly scent of detox. Once, a long time ago, back when he used to be Billy, he smelled of fresh mountains and citrus fruit. Carolyn reeked of guilt, it was almost overpowering her gentler scent of vanilla. Before, he might have been attracted to her, but not with this _other_ that has invaded all aspects of his attention.

He heard the other approaching now, shoes near silent on the still shifting metal. Riddick leaned further back into the shadows, eyes cracked open just barely to see. The light still burned his eyes, muted though it was, and his head was throbbing from where the bitch had kicked him. He saw a body emerge into the threshold of the cargo room the other survivors turned into his own personal little prison.

Riddick shifted his head just a little more, inhaling deeply that intoxicating scent. He could smell danger now, mixed in with the alien scents. Whoever…whatever this thing was he was dangerous, and God help him if that didn't just turn him on more. A deep uncontrollable rumble, almost a growl came from him, bouncing off the metal walls and echoing around the room.

The man shivered at the sound, and even from this distance Riddick could see his pupils dilate. The convict was tempted to scent the air again, to see if he was as aroused as he looked, but the larger male resisted. Chained as he was, Riddick was barely controlling himself, he didn't need the extra temptation.

The other male took a halting step into the room, towards Riddick, and the Furyan smirked deviously. The Storm was here.

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

_Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. _That was what the Doctor kept telling himself as he approached the room that held the man who invaded his mind like his defenses weren't even there. But it was far too late now and the Doctor couldn't stop himself from moving forward even if he wanted too.

The woman who had all but bowled him over was long gone by now. Probably outside with the others, telling them her ingenious plan. Ingenious his arse, that woman was going to get herself killed, and he was damned if he even cared. His hearts thudded loudly in fear as he thought what awaited the slight child under the shifting sand. Because that was all she was in the eyes of one as old as him: a child.

She would be lucky if she survived the experience. But the Doctor knew there was no way to talk her out of it, he had seen it in her mind as their eyes met. He didn't mean to look, honestly, she was simply thinking too loudly and the Doctor was curious about what.

He picked up her thoughts about the male chained spread-eagle to the bulkhead just down the hall. _Riddick_, the name had popped out as she pictured him. She was attracted to him, and completely and utterly terrified of him at the same time. He glimpsed silver eyes, coiled muscles. A man bound and chained, arms straining not to break. Silver bit locked in teeth. _"Is he dangerous?"_ Broken handcuffs in the sand. _"Maybe just to skull fuck ya."_ Weapons. Fear.

He tried to follow that train of thought to find out _why_ she was so scared, but her thoughts were as shifting as the sand all around them and they broke off onto another tangent, mainly himself. The Doctor pulled out of her mind right there, he didn't want to know what she thought of him.

The Time Lord could have followed that thought further into her mind, gathering all the information he needed, but that would have been an invasion of privacy, and no way would he have gone undetected. Just as she tried to leave, he warned her, subtly, about the danger she was putting herself in. She would ignore him, he knew. The Doctor still didn't care, didn't even know why he tried anymore.

No, what was on his mind right now was sitting less than two meters away staring at him through lidded eyes. He saw a head shift, heard a quick inhalation as the other scented him. The Doctor was powerless to control the shiver that crawled up his spine as the other all but growled dominance at him.

Luckily, he was able to bite back the moan that was crawling its way out of his throat and used steel nerves to savagely maintain control of his bodies reactions. The last thing he needed was this primal creature to smell his arousal. Though chained, the Doctor wouldn't bet on the metal holding the feral man if he was determined enough.

Before he even realized what he was doing, the Time Lord was stepping further into the room and it took every ounce of self control to make himself _stop_. A whispering chuckle danced across his psyche as he felt his Tardis disconnect from him, leaving his mind completely his own and giving him privacy. The Doctor didn't know whether to feel offended that she was enjoying this so much, or glad that no one was there to see him if he lost control. He could still feel her, way in the back of his mind, but she would ignore him until he sought her out.

The Doctor was unable to distract himself for long and too soon was his attention pulled back to the creature that fascinated him so. Stepping a little further into the room, he licked his still bleeding lip and swallowed nervously. The other's head followed his every movement, like a large predator stalking its prey. The Doctor seized control of his wayward thoughts right there because they really were not helping him right now.

Quicksilver flashed as the Doctor sought the other's eyes, before they were lidded as his face was slightly illuminated by a breach in the hull. Brown eyes darted around the room quickly, confirming that they were truly alone. He could hear the others moving further and further away. If he screamed, would they be able to hear him? He doubted it.

Once again his gaze settled on the man bound before him. And what a specimen of a man he was. Skin was a rich caramel color from the sun, probably tasted just as good, shoulders broad and slightly bruised. The bruising looked like it was caused by dislocation, but the Doctor wondered how it could be both shoulders. If the other stood he would probably be four or five inches taller than himself.

The man was mostly muscle and all predator, it left the older male feeling both scared and excited at the same time. The feral creature shaved his head and it was only because of this that the Doctor saw that he was injured. A large bruise was forming on the left side of his head and it was bleeding sluggishly from where the skin had torn. It almost looked as if he had been kicked.

Shifting a little closer, he could now see another bruise forming along the right side of his jaw and just below his eye. The Doctor momentarily wondered what the other man had been up too to garner these kinds of injuries. Sighing at the cruelty of humankind, the doctor stepped back and moved over to the stairs that led to what he assumed was the upper cargo hold. He pulled several things out of his jacket before he promptly removed it and tossed it over the railing. It would be remiss of him after all to refuse help to one who needed it.

Now that he had a clear objective in his mind, he found it easier to control his bodies wayward reactions. As long as he stayed in his Doctor mode, he hoped that he could avoid any embarrassing actions. Yeah…he hoped.

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

Carolyn took a deep steady breath as she slowly crawled into the hole that 'ate' Zeke. She could see the blood that covered the small tunnel's walls and she could feel it crawling under her nails. The ground was slightly wet and crumbled easily in her grip, she knew it wasn't because of rain. The thought that she was crawling in someone else's blood sickened her. Riddick would get a kick out of this if he knew. Maybe he did, and this was all just one giant mind fuck to him.

It didn't matter though, she was almost through the tunnel and she would see this through to the end. As the tunnel ended and she found herself standing in a cavern of some sort, the strange man with no name and only a title was brought to her mind.

The whooping started as she stepped into the light. The sound was one almost like the whales of Earth she had once seen in a video, but not quite. It was louder, higher pitched, different, and it scared the hell out of her.

Eyes darted around frantically as the shadows around her shifted. _There…_a foot. Zeke's foot, and sadly only his foot. Fry moved to grab it. It wasn't a body, but perhaps it would let Shazza find some closure. Before she could get even a meter away from it, the severed limb was snatched by dark claws into the shadows. The whooping got louder.

She should have listened to the man with only a title, she should have never come down here.


	6. Temptation

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

_"I generally avoid temptation unless I can't resist it."_

_-Mae West_

**Temptation**

Riddick watched the Doctor in something akin to amusement as he walked quickly to the other side of the little prison. The slighter man's back was too him so he couldn't see what he was doing, but the convict could tell that he unsettled him. He almost chuckled…_almost_.

The large brown overcoat was removed, followed quickly by the lighter jacket, leaving him in a buttoned shirt, and Riddick briefly wondered how the heat was affecting him. With the coat removed, the strange man looked even thinner, if that was possible, but Riddick didn't let his appearance fool him. There was power in that lithe body, power and wisdom…the Furyan shifted in anticipation.

The beast in him wanted to seize the man and shove him against the nearest wall. It wanted to bite and tear and push, it wanted to _dominate_. Riddick wasn't sure if that was a bad thing though, as he watched the other carefully. If only he wasn't chained.

The other finally turned back to him, and all but loped up onto the slight platform where he was bound. Shined eyes flicked to long legs, he wondered if he was as flexible as he looked. He had several things in his hands, but the sun shifted further in the sky and cast his throne in pale blue light. It was too bright and Riddick was forced to completely close his eyes before he could find out what he was carrying.

"Nasty cut you got there," an accented voice floated to his ears. It was pleasing, Riddick briefly wondered what he sounded like screaming. His cock twitched.

Displacement of air to his left, his face once again cast in shadows as the man stepped up next to him. Mouth parting slightly so he wouldn't have to breath in the other's scent, a thick alien taste settled on his tongue and Riddick resisted the urge to further taste the air. Now, in darkness once again, his eyes cracked open just enough to see by.

The smaller male was less than a foot away, well within his perimeter. Riddick wondered if the other man knew the chains had .04 meters of slack. Probably not. The other leaned in closer, his hand moving outside his peripheral, and Riddick growled a warning at him. He didn't move away or flinch, something that pleased Riddick, but the slight man did stopped his advances.

"Don't you know it's dangerous to poke at wild animals?"

His voice was just a whisper, deep and gravely as he all but purred the words. Riddick was rewarded with a full body shudder, pupils dilating, and the overbearing scent of arousal, before the other straightened slightly. The other's arousal was intoxicating and Riddick could feel himself slowly hardening before the scent cut off all together. He couldn't stop the malicious chuckle that escaped him. It seemed the other had _almost_ impeccable control of his body. He briefly wondered how far he could push him.

"Sorry," the other said, moving around so he was now standing directly in front of the bound man. "Sometimes I get carried away. Just looken at tha' cut on your head…are you aware tha' your bleeding?"

Another chuckle filled the room and Riddick watched in avid amusement as the other seemed to flush in embarrassment. "Righ', stupid question, forget I asked. How terribly rude of me, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm the Doctor, no need to introduce yourself, I've heard all about you," a pale index finger tapped his temple meaningfully, clearly it was lost on the prisoner. He moved closer again, leaning to get a better look at his still bleeding laceration. "Do you mind if I take a look," a hand waved in the general vicinity of his head and Riddick bit back another chuckle.

"Knock yourself out, Doc," the Furyan shifted his head down and to the right slightly, allowing the Doctor to get a clear view. Amusement was laced in with the deep rumble of warning. Satisfaction briefly shown in his silver eyes as the other didn't even bat an eyelash before once again invading his personal space while positioning his body to block the blinding light of the sun. Long slim fingers unbuttoned cuffs and rolled the sleeves up his forearms.

The Doctor had stepped in between Riddick's spread thighs, any closer and he would have been in his lap…not that Riddick had any objections to that. Riddick took the opportunity to observe the Doctor and discovered what the other was carrying. A plastic bottle of clear liquid was gripped in his left hand, a clean white cloth wrapped around it. He wondered briefly it was water; could be vodka though, he wouldn't mind a drink right about now.

The larger man was pulled out of his musings when he felt several fingers graze the area around his head wound. The fingers were cold, too cold, almost like he had just stuck his hand in a freezer box. It felt nice but it left him wondering. Riddick hated mysteries, and this new man was turning out to be one large jigsaw puzzle with a hell of a lot of missing pieces and not even a picture as a guide. He didn't like it, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it.

The Doctor's wrist was bare and exposed, just inches from his face. Perfect. It was time to start pushing.

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

The Doctor examined the man carefully from his vantage point. The laceration wasn't deep and wouldn't need stitching, though there were bits of sand in the wound. He would have to wash it out, and stop the bleeding before he could use the sonic screwdriver to heal him. After that he would check his other wounds.

He desperately tried to keep his body in control as the heat from the much larger male pushed against him. His voice was complete and utter sin, it should be illegal with the way it had his lower stomach clenching in anticipation. In fact the Doctor could name three planets where a voice like that would be considered illegal.

He could smell the other as he examined him and he wished suddenly that his senses were not as advanced as they were. The man smelled of death and destruction, of pain and exquisite pleasure. He was tempted to breathe through his mouth, but this regeneration had quite the oral fixation. The last thing he needed was to be tempted to lick this man. And if that wasn't a distracting thought he didn't know what was. Thank Rassilon he had higher brain functions and could multitask effectively.

Fingers gently prodded around the bruising, trying to estimate how deep the damage went. It honestly didn't look that bad, but it could get infected. Who knew what other kinds of things lived on this planet, what type of bacteria there was. The shaved head shifted lightly and an apology was on his lips, worried that he had caused the other pain, before it was quite abruptly choked off.

He felt a nose lightly graze the inside of his wrist before he literally saw the man inhale his scent. His whole body seemed to move with the action, chest expanding, shoulders shifting, diaphragm contracting. The Doctor licked suddenly dry lips before he continued his examination. He could deal with this, scenting was something many species did, something he even did himself occasionally. He could deal with this, he could deal with this, he could….what was he doing again?

Right, examining the head wound. Head wounds can cause trauma to the skull, which was not prudent here as the skull was not damaged. What else pertains to head wounds? Why couldn't he seem to think around the primal male?

A long slow exhalation, the Doctor could feel the other's breath dance across his wrist. An abused lip was bitten savagely as a strangled whimper contracted his vocal cords. Was that him that just made that sound? He couldn't think, he needed room, and yet he couldn't get his body to vacate the position he was in.

A deep rumbling chuckle answered his broken whimper and the Time Lord snapped his eyes closed and took a deep breath as he reigned in his chaotic emotions. _This was really a bad idea._

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

Riddick closed his eyes as he scented the arousal in the air. He couldn't distinguish whose arousal it was though. The broken, strangled whimper that was pulled from the abused lips was exquisite and had him almost completely hard and aching in seconds. If he wasn't chained right now he would show the slight man the meaning of primal _need_.

The Furyan couldn't remember the last time somebody had grabbed his attention so harshly and turned him on without even trying. He felt more the saw the other stiffen before once again his emotions were locked tightly away.

"Stop tha'," Riddick smirked deviously, curiosity dancing in his mind. "You know exactly wha' your doing. Stop distracting me."

The Doctor stepped back and crouched down so he was level with the bound man. The convict raised an eyebrow in question. How could the other know what he was about to say? "Sorry, you were projecting." Curiosity again. Projecting what? The Doctor raised a hand and extended his pointer finger. "Fascinating…is the shine natural or an upgrade? Knew a man once, well at least I think it was a man, had this nifty little doohickey that would temporarily change your eye color. Well, temporary in the aspect of until you got it changed again o' course. Not nearly as interesting as yours though. Follow my finger with your eyes, would you?"

He was bouncing back and forth between topics so fast that Riddick found himself hard pressed to keep up, not that he would let the other know that of course. Riddick did as the other asked though, humoring him for the time being. He was rewarded with an answer to his silent question. "Projecting mentally. I can pick up stray thoughts if they're loud enough."

Silver eyes narrowed dangerously as the Doctor lowered his hand and uncapped the bottle. He held the cloth over the mouth of the bottle and then tipped it, letting it get sufficiently wet. Riddick wasn't sure what he thought about the other being able to read his thoughts as he pleased. The Doctor seemed oblivious to the sudden danger he now found himself in and kept on talking. Seemed he had a habit of rambling.

"No concussion, tha's good. Last thing you need ou' in this heat. Don't normally go out of my way to read other peoples' minds. Quite rude if you ask me," a grin stole across his boyish face.

The Doctor moved suddenly, setting the bottle on the floor before standing and leaning once again into the convicts personal space. Riddick would have snarled in anger if he hadn't been so distracted. When a cool cloth was placed against his wound he decided to settle on a low growl instead. The Doctor had the decency to look properly chastised.

Riddick would let it slide, this time. "So, Doc…got a name?"

Eyes shifted to his quickly before focusing back onto his wound. "Already told you my name, just 'The Doctor'."

There was a story behind that one, he was sure. "Ain't a name Doc."

He looked troubled, his abused lower lip was once again being worried between teeth. "I've been known as John Smith from time to time."

Another rumbling chuckle met his answer. John Smith wasn't a name, it was an alias. Shined eyes flashed briefly as Riddick thought upon what the other was desperately hiding from. "What do your _friends_ call you?" The way he enunciated friends made it sound dirty.

A flinch met his inquiry followed by complete stillness. After several seconds the Doctor went back to cleaning his wound and the silence seemed to stretch on forever. It was finally broken by the slight man. "Theta Sigma," he paused, as if debating whether he wanted to continue. His adams-apple bobbed as he swallowed. Riddick could smell the grief coming off of him. If he had been a kinder, better man, he would have apologized. "My _friend_ used to call me Theta."

The convict didn't miss the non plural form of friend, nor the past tense in which he was referenced. That kind of grief only came from death. Riddick wondered briefly what happened. 'Theta' stilled again and his eyes were clenched tightly shut before he lowered the cloth and examined the wound for any leftover debris. He must have been _'projecting'_ again.

"Tha's just about as clean as its gonna get," Theta was changing topics again. Riddick let him. The convict was curious, but not that curious. The Doctor reached into his pin striped trousers and pulled out some sort of cylinder object with a blue glass tip. "Sonic screwdriver, never leave home without it," he explained, letting Riddick get a good look at it before he started twisting the many tiny dials.

"Best thing since…how does that saying go…right, sliced bread. Don't know why you humans consider sliced bread to be so fantastic though. I'm a chip man myself. Nothing can beat a platter of perfectly cooked chips," the Doctor held it against his ear and pushed a button. The thing made an odd high pitched whirring noise that Riddick knew he was going to learn to hate.

Tongue caught between perfectly straight teeth, more dials were turned, another whir, and then a grin. "Perfect," he once again returned his attention to the other man's injury before he moved his free hand up and shielded the side of his face. "The ligh' is gonna be bright so you might wanna go ahead and close your eyes. Be done in a jiffy."

Three seconds later, the convict was pleased to note that his head no longer ached. He looked up quizzically at the other man. "Nifty thing, screwdrivers," Theta threw the cylinder object in the air, it flipped several times before a deft hand caught it. "Can do anything but make a nice cuppa'."

"Wha'dya do?"

"Hmm," he hummed a question, distracted as he was lost in thought. Probably about the cuppa', whatever the hell that was. "Oh, just excited the atoms on a cellular level to encourage the natural function of repair and replace," a blank look followed his statement. The Doctor tried again, "I healed you," he was always forgetting that most other species had a baser brain function. Don't get him wrong, he loved humans, but they were almost useless on an intellectual level.

"Got that the first time, Doc."

A look of surprise crossed the lithe man's features before it changed to one of consternation. He was not pouting. "Wha's the point of given you my name if you're no' even gonna use it?" He was most definitely _not _pouting. Perhaps a change of topic was in order. "Now let's see about that bruise."

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

Honestly, he should have been expecting it. The man before him was absolutely devious and extremely dangerous. The Doctor just wished that he didn't have such horrible timing. Chances were, this 'Riddick' did it on purpose.

With sonic screwdriver in his right hand, he shifted his body weight to the left to take a look at the bruising along the larger man's jaw. And what does he go and do…the bastard snaps his thighs together with such force that not only did it trap both of the Doctors legs in between his larger ones, but also caused him to completely loose his balance.

The arm that was holding his most precious and useful tool in seventeen galaxies wrapped around the convict's neck to keep himself from falling backwards, and his left hand was used to stabilize his teetering balance. Sadly, the only place he was able to put it in such short notice was on the much larger man's upper thigh, precariously close to what the Doctor could now uncomfortably confirm was an erection.

With his legs being confined in such an awkward angle, the Doctor was unable to find his balance, and after several seconds of floundering in shock, decided that just getting away would suffice. Even knowing that he would probably land straight on his arse didn't deter him. Too bad it seemed like Riddick had other ideas.

The man must be made completely out of muscle because he had thighs of pure steel. Even when he pushed away with most of his strength he couldn't move further then several inches. Apparently Riddick decided that several inches was too much because he immediately closed the distance between them. Before Theta even knew what had happened, the rather dangerous man had his head in the crook of his neck and his teeth were uncomfortably close to his jugular. So the Doctor did what any person would do when threatened in such a way, he whined in disbelief and froze in fear.

A deep rumbling chuckle filled the silence and the Doctor was helpless to stop his body's reaction. He shivered uncontrollably and his left hand contracted on the thigh below it. The other was again sniffing him, but this time it didn't look like he planned to stop. And it would appear that his body had the exact same reaction this time as it did last. His arousal spiked to dangerous levels and the Doctor knew there was no hiding it from the feral creature that had him contained.

There was irony for him, only the Doctor would be able to put himself in such a situation. How in the name of Rassilon did he become the captive when the other was the one in chains?

Riddick inhaled deeply again, before he let his breath out in a gust. It caressed the Doctor's skin and a groan of need escaped him before his mind could even come up with a single reason as to why that was a _very_ bad idea. Of course the second the lustful sound was uttered, several dozen reasons popped into mind.

Another chuckle, warm breath dancing upon heated skin. "Careful, Doc. I might start thinking you're enjoying this," there was a threat somewhere in that sentence, but not even the Doctor's higher functioning brain could find it. The shaved head shifted slightly before another malicious chuckle danced out of that sinful throat. "Funs over."

Pupils dilated, breath ragged, hearts beating in an unsteady tempo behind his ribs. The Doctor parted his lips to ask what he was on about. What came out sounded more like, "Whuh?" And then he came crashing to the ground as Riddick spread his thighs, releasing him.

That dangerous chuckle was still filling the small room, and Riddick had an absolutely devious smirk dancing on his lips as he gazed down upon the Doctor. Theta's left hand had shifted even closer to the man's erection, his right forearm resting on his opposite thigh, and his face had almost been planted in his lap. The convict could safely say he enjoyed the view.

The Doctor spluttered somewhat idiotically for several seconds before he braced himself to stand. He fell right back down at an exclaimed, "What the fuck is going on here," that came from the blue eyed devil that had just walked in.

Theta shifted, still resting between spread thighs, and looked at the newcomer. Last of the Time Lords, the Destroyer of Worlds, Lonely God, the Oncoming Storm, just turned 956 years of age, and an intelligence that could not be measured by human means…and what comes out of his mouth was, "This is not wha' it looks like."


	7. Assholes and Kings

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

"_I just got kicked out of my local laser tag and the police were called. Apparently knifing somebody to conserve ammo is not allowed."_

**Assholes and Kings**

The Doctor stood alone under the blazing heat of the never ending day. The two twining suns of red and gold were making their way across the vast field of the empty sky, the blue sun having set hours ago. The ever decreasing group of survivors was clustered together as they prepared to march across the desert sand with alcohol in their stomachs and hope in their hearts. Not all of them were going to survive this journey, the Doctor could see it. In his eyes and ancient mind he held the futures of the survivors, and he knew that many of their futures ended before the journey was done.

The once great Time Lord held a little hope in hearts as well as he watched the little kids running back and forth over the ever shifting dunes. Maybe they would survive, hopefully. Brown eyes closing briefly, he reached out with his mind and sighed in relief as the Tardis' consciousness merged once again with his. He could feel her amusement as she skimmed along his surface and most recent memories. He was too confused by his own reactions to feel offended or even slightly miffed.

The thud of heavy boots meeting metal greeted the Doctor's sensitive ears as the two missing members of Hunter-Gratzner made their way outside with the others. _He_ came out first, the one who made his hearts speed up and stop all at the same time, the one that made him want to do something, _anything_, the one who made him loose control.

Riddick.

Now that he was no longer chained like the placid little predator he most definitely was not, the Doctor was able to get his first real look at how impressive he really was. The convict was not much taller than the Gallifrayan, but he still seemed to tower over the Time Lord. It must have been the muscles, because that guy seemed to have an excess of them.

His gait was that of a predator scoping out its territory. The way his body moved was pure grace and complete sin. He walked in near silence, with Johns bringing up the rear with his overbearing attitude. The 'cop' sounded like a baby elephant stomping around compared to how the feral man moved. Then again, everyone sounded like a blumbering herd in comparison.

There was something _off_ about that Johns fellow. The Doctor couldn't put his finger on it, but when he went to just brush minds with the man, it left him disoriented and nauseous. That would teach him to be nosy…though now he was even more curious.

The introductions had been more than a little awkward, especially since half of them were done while he was still sprawled in between the rather impressive thighs of a convict, but that was only because the Doctor was having quite a hard time regaining his balance without making his position even more compromised. Riddick's booming loud laughter was still ringing in his ears. He had remembered blushing, he wasn't even aware that he could blush.

Welder's goggles were wrapped around an angular face, light sensitive shined eyes hidden from the blaring suns. It made it hard to tell where that man was looking since his eyes were completely obscured, but the Doctor just _knew_ that the convict was looking right at him. Another chill raced down his spine and the Doctor moved quickly to join the other survivors. He may not have wanted to mingle, but given his other options, it seemed the safest.

He heard a light snicker coming from behind him as he moved to help the group gather what they needed before heading to the abandoned settlement. He didn't look back, he didn't need to. Riddick was probably laughing at him again, and his blush still wouldn't go away. Another lighter, gentler laughter danced around his psyche as his ship shared in the amusement of the convict. Some days, the Doctor wondered why he even bothered to get up at all.

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

Jack walked sullenly next to a younger Chrislam boy named Ali. She had once again been denied the opportunity to converse with her idol, and quite loudly at that as well. Richard B. Riddick was at the very back of the group, lagging behind due to the shear amount of shit he had to drag. She didn't think it was fair, not that anyone else cared…well, except for _him_.

The Doctor was walking roughly in the middle of the group, also looking sullen, though for a completely different reason. Johns, the _merc_ had told the rather talkative man to 'rag his fat mouth' or something along those lines. Yeah, Johns was a complete asshole, but damn that man knew how to talk.

For over an hour he listed different types of sands, colors, textures, even taste, along with where they could be found, how they can get into your drawers, and once there it will _never_ go away. Luckily he wasn't wearing drawers, or so he loudly proclaimed for everyone to hear. Most of the group laughed at that, and Jack couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard Riddick chuckling in amusement as well. Then again, it could be the heat delirium setting in.

She observed the rather new group member to their merry band of survivors. He was really tall, and though he walked with a sense of grace, he also seemed quite clumsy. Jack saw brown eyes once again flick backwards, badly concealed concern made his lips purse and eyebrows scrunch together. She glanced back as well. Riddick was starting to look tired.

Dark brown eyes caught hers as she returned her scrutiny back to the current object of her fascination. Glancing away quickly, she hoped that the strange man hadn't noticed her observations. She was so deep in her prayer that she didn't notice when he made his way over to her and Ali, and jumped nearly a foot in the air when a voice greeted her.

"'ello," his accent was similar to the weasel of man who was currently walking as far away from the convict as possible, but his voice seemed much nicer. "I don' think we have had the pleasure of meeting. I'm the Doctor."

Walking backwards now, he held a hand out to each of them. The street rat looked suspiciously at the hand presented to her before looking up in the smiling and far too trusting face of the one who called himself the Doctor. Tentatively, she reached her own hand out, and out of the corner of her eye, she watched the young Arabic boy do the same. "I'm Jack and that's Ali."

His hand was cool and dry, unlike her clammy ones; it felt nice. The Doctor clasped both of their hands in his much larger ones and brought it up a foot, before bringing them back down quickly in a rather enthusiastic shake. Once introductions were out of the way, he turned around and stepped in between them to keep himself from tripping over the shifting sand.

"Well 'ello Jack, 'ello Ali. Tell me, what brings you two miscreants out here to this wonderful planet full of…well, sand," a grin plastered to his face, he tugged one of his ears slightly. She heard Ali giggling softly on the other side of the strange man, and she felt a small chuckle working its way up as well. She quickly stifled it though, as she still didn't know if he could be trusted.

A much quieter and lighter voice started spurting out words that she couldn't understand and it took Jack a second to realize that it was Ali who was talking. "Is tha' so…Hajj you say," the Doctor replied, seemingly fascinating and Jack found it strange that he could understand the boy so easily. "I haven't been on one of those in years, well, it wasn't exactly Hajj…well, okay no' Hajj but it was close, well close enough I think. Started with an H, at least. And by years I of course mean _years_."

He touched a finger to his nose conspiratorially and this time Jack couldn't hold in her laughter at the strange gesture. This man was completely off his rocker. He reached into his coat that he was still wearing and Jack wondered how he hadn't passed out from heat stroke yet. A clear plastic bottle emerged and the Doctor took a small sip of what could only be water before he handed it to Ali. The small Chrislam boy gulped down half the bottle in relief before he remembered his manners and handed it to Jack to have some.

Clapping his hands together loudly, he rubbed them enthusiastically as Jack capped the bottle. "So…_Jack_, how 'bout you then? Wha' tale of adventures led you to the glorious…Hunter-Gratzner, was it? Well, not very glorious now is she? Poor ol' girl."

The Doctor looked genuinely sad about the ship being a total wreck. She thought it was strange that he couldn't remember the name of the ship, but then again, everything he did was weird. "Just got on the wrong ship is all."

A light smile twisted the Doctor's lips. "Didn' we all," a sudden grin melted away any traces of sadness and Jack spared a moment to consider what mental hospital the man must have just escaped from. "Tell me, _Jack_," he was annunciating her name again, placing a hand on one of their shoulders, crouching down so he more level and lowering his voice. "Have I ever told you 'bout a friend of mine who's name you share?"

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

"And of course the King of Steckqulervbr had no idea how to react," Johns could hear the Doctor's voice stretching over the sand as the two kids he was talking to burst into hysterical laughter. Grinding his bleached white teeth together, Johns resisted the urge to yell at the crazed lunatic. Honestly, nothing that came out of his mouth could even be remotely true, and that just pissed him off even more.

Johns hated how the _Doctor _was able to get the others to follow and listen to him without even trying. The man just _oozed_ charisma, and his eyes made others trust him blindly. It was ridiculous, after all he had the badge, he had the gage, he had the chains…so then why would the group choose a man like the Doctor when he was right here.

It made no sense to the merc and he took several deep breaths to calm himself before he did something irrational. The strange man was completely insane, and Johns briefly entertained the idea of chaining him up and leaving him to the mercies of the elements. Maybe he could convince the group that he was clinically insane and a cannibal…or something. Glancing backwards at the group that was now congregating more towards the Doctor then up front where he was, he scrapped the idea. No way could he get away with it…not yet at least.

"So Jack, naked as the day he was born, covered in this bright orange secretion, walks up to the King and says, 'My good sir, it would please me greatly if I could have this dance' which was hilarious because everyone knows Steckqulervbrians cannot dance. Two left feet, you know."

Johns hand convulsed around his shotgun as a loud bellow of laughter followed that statement. A light chuckle came from his left and steel blue eyes glared in annoyance as Fry tried to contain herself. This was just getting ridiculous. Really now, no part of that story made even the slightest sense. He wouldn't say anything though; somehow the Doctor always turned it around and made him out to be the asshole. Just like with the water.

It had been over an hour ago when Johns had lost his patience and turned around to snap at the man when he saw it. The older boy was carrying a bottle, a bottle of water. The entire group was getting dehydrated quickly due to the heat exposure and the consumption of alcohol. And to think, one of those little shits actually found water.

He had stopped walking completely and raised his shotgun to point it in a dismissive gesture at the innocuous bottle as he demanded where he had gotten it. Seconds later, his vision of the little boy who was holding the water was obscured by red high tops, blue pinstripe suit, brown coat, and violent chocolate eyes.

Turns out the Doctor had _given_ the little boy his _only_ bottle of water and it should stay with the _kids_ since there wasn't much left and they _need_ it so much more, don' you think? Johns may have been thirsty, but he wasn't an idiot. If he argued with the Doctor, he would be thrown from his precarious position as leader for being an asshole. If he took the water, the group would turn on him.

There was just no way to win, so with a halting nod and a grimace, Johns retook his place at the front of the group, Riddick's sinister chuckle followed him. There was something off about that man, the Doctor, and Johns wouldn't rest until he found it, and exposed the man…or killed him quietly and stashed the body. No way could he blame it on Riddick, not after _that_ display he had walked in on. The Doctor fascinated his convict, and Johns hoped he wouldn't get too attached. The Doctor wasn't sticking around for long anyways, not if he had anything to say about it.


	8. Repeating History

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

"_Ah, yes, divorce ... from the Latin word meaning to rip out a man's genitals through his wallet."_

_-Robin Williams_

**Repeating History**

The colony was clearly old and hadn't been in use for a long while. Over half of the area was buried in sand and the other half looked ready to fall apart if the wind picked up. The Doctor watched the others move around the tiny little skiff that was to be their salvation. The Time Lord didn't have to be genius to figure out that it wouldn't fit them all. He was also aware that he wasn't the only one to notice.

Johns, the one with the badge glanced around at the group slyly, as if he was calculating just who he needed to get rid of to secure his own seat on the ship. When his steel blue eyes landed on him, the Doctor had the uncanny feeling that he was one of the dispensable ones. The man didn't even glance at Riddick and that had the Doctor tensing in realization. He wasn't a cop, he was a bounty hunter, and the convict was his pay day. There was his ever failing luck at work again.

It seemed the only surviving crew member realized the problem as well, but she seemed content to pretend it didn't exist. The Imam had taken two of his disciples to find water and London, or Paris, whatever his name was had gone with them. The two youngest were off probably exploring and the Doctor wandered away to find them. He didn't even want to think about what kind of trouble those kids could get into.

He walked slowly but with a purpose as he stretched his mind out to find them. He just needed a direction to start in, but he was forced to rein his consciousness in prematurely as his mind was seized by the collective thoughts of the creatures under the sand. They were all preparing, but he didn't want to think on what. Bloodshed and death sang in their many voices as they prepared for a feast.

Clutching his head in agony, the Doctor let out a muffled yelp as he stumbled into a nearby building. Fingers dug into his messy brown hair, and the Doctor threw his head back as another wave of unwanted images and feelings clawed themselves into his mind. He couldn't completely close the connection now that he had opened it and he felt the Tardis reaching out to comfort him as his legs began to buckle.

The Doctor could see them, the people, the families, the children that lived here. Could see them cowering in the dark as fear overtook their senses. Could _feel_ their blood and _hear_ their screams as the creatures tore into them. They pushed their joy upon him and it almost overcame the Doctor's revulsion.

So consumed in the images the Doctor didn't hear his name being called, didn't see the person approaching. Legs buckling, he didn't feel the arm that steadied him, pushing him back up against the wall. But what he did feel was the blessed emptiness as the combined minds of the creatures that lived in darkness left him. Body trembling in exhaustion, the Doctor sighed in relief as his mind was once again his own.

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

Riddick watched in amusement as Johns finally noticed his disappearance. Took the bastard long enough. Silver shined eyes obscured by dark goggles glanced once more at the tiny emergency skiff. It wasn't going to fit them all, and he knew Johns noticed as well. He wondered who the blue eyed devil had chosen to stay behind.

The convict slid off of the roof where he had perched himself and was about to go find something worth his while when he felt her again. The ancient female mind trickled into his psyche and left him feeling like he had just taken a cold shower. In this kind of heat the feeling was welcomed.

A curious emotion was met by unease and slight panic that were not his own. A frown tugged at his pale chapped lips as he felt a mental push to his right. She wanted him to go somewhere, but Riddick hadn't survived this long by just following commands blindly. He pushed back just as hard and continued on the path he had started.

A sudden rush of jumbled images brought him to a stuttering halt and fists clenched in anger as a headache started to build. He got a picture of the Doctor and a feeling of pain but not much else. Growling lowly to himself, Riddick turned and cautiously made his way where the female entity wanted him.

When this was all over, he was going to find that bitch and kill her…slowly. No one manipulated him and got away with it, but he would play along for now.

It took Riddick only a few minutes to find what the thing had guided him too. It was the Doctor, and he looked as if he was breaking apart from the seams. "Hey Doc," he all but barked as he made his way swiftly over to him. His posture oozed anger as he all but stalked up to the smaller male.

The Doctor didn't reply, instead a strangled whimper broken in pain escaped his lips as fingers clutched his head. Two more steps brought Riddick right up next to him, and it was only his impressive reflexes that kept the lithe man from falling as long thin legs buckled and he all but collapsed.

Propping him back up against the wall, Riddick pushed his body flush against the other to keep him stable. One large had grabbed the thin slender wrists and trapped them against the stone above them as his other went to grab his hair to force his head back. Fingers curled around the brown mop of hair and yanked his head up, but his thumb brushed lightly against the temple of the other by accident. The moment his thumb touched the flesh there he was bombarded with another series of images, but these were unlike before. These ones were a cacophony of madness, anger, and pain.

Riddick could feel himself beginning to drown in the sensations and he growled angrily as he shoved the others back and away from what was his. He felt the other consciousness screech in hatred as they tried to regain their foothold. A possessive snarl escaped the convict's lips and he forced them out with one final violent push.

He heard a sigh of relief escape the one he had trapped and Riddick opened eyes he hadn't been aware were closed. He was panting, muscles twitching as if he had just had a long workout, and sweat was beading down his back. That had to be one of the strangest things he had ever experienced, by far.

Removing his hand from the Doctor's head, Riddick observed his captive as he used it to brace against the wall, pushing him back slightly. A smirk was tugging at his lips as he watched the strange man slowly start to come around. Long eyelashes fluttered on pale cheeks before eyelids cracked open and dazed brown eyes darted around rapidly. Riddick could practically see the gears whirring in the other's mind has he put the pieces together.

Finally pupil blown eyes settled on him and Riddick didn't even bother smothering his amusement as _Theta_ connected the last of the dots. A muffled, "Wha'," left him as he tugged futilely at his captive wrists, staring unseeingly at the hand that held them.

A low rumble left him as Riddick once again closed the distance between their bodies, what little distance it was. "That's what I want to know, Doc. What the fuck was that?"

The Doctor tore his confused eyes away from their hands and met his goggle clad ones. He watched as realization seemed to dance across his features and his pupils dilated in fear. "Kreanors," he whispered, voice laced in panic.

"Care to elaborate?" He wasn't asking, not really, he was demanding an explanation. He tried not to be distracted by the smell of the other's fear. It was intoxicating, almost as much as his arousal.

"Kreanors," there was that word again. "Native to the planet Lukal in the Nomriel Nebula. Only one side of the planet ever faces the sun, so they live in perpetual darkness. Carnivores, predators, they usually hunt the Rakalj, the flying behemoths that are also native. But what are they doing _here_?"

Hysteria colored his words and Riddick was aware that he had once again started babbling. The Doctor wasn't talking to him, still lost in thought the way he was, he was talking _at_ him. Riddick didn't like it. "You mean those creatures under the sand?" He asked, hand tightening slightly on the wrists still confined in his grasp.

With the added pressure he could feel the heart beat underneath the flesh and the convict was left confused as he felt the steady four beat tempo. If he wasn't positive that this being before him wasn't human, he was sure now. A heart beat like that would have meant that they were having a heart attack, but clearly that wasn't the case. Also, he could still feel how cold he was. It seemed his body temperature was lower than thought possible. Hell, Riddick's seen dead bodies warmer than him.

"_Interesting,"_ a malicious smirk danced across Riddick's lips. He wanted answers and it seemed that the Doctor was in the perfect _position_ to answer them. "What the hell are you?"

Glazed eyes finally seemed to focus on him, actually seeing him instead of looking through, before darting down to where their bodies were pressed tightly together, and then up to the hand confining his. It seemed he just realized his position as well.

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

"Wha' are you…" Theta trailed off, eyes still fastened on his confined wrists. He twisted them a little, testing the other's grip before a high pitched whine of annoyance, disbelief, and frustration escaped him. When had this happened?

A gentle brush of minds as the Tardis informed him of the events he had missed. His mind had been locked in a battle with the Kreanors and she had retrieved the child of darkness to free him. He sighed in frustration again, but this time at his own stupidity. He should have known better, yes his mind was strong, but against a collective of thousands his barriers might as well have been nonexistent.

So absorbed in his predicament, the Doctor didn't notice when Riddick swooped his head down and pressed his nose into the crook of his neck until he was right _there_. The Doctor sucked in a breath of surprise and tried to push his body away. Needless to say that was nigh impossible and it made it look as if he was trying to meld himself with the sand and stone wall he was pressed against.

He was trapped, literally, between a rock and a hard place, and by Rassilon was that man hard. Riddick's impressive muscles kept him easily locked in place. His mind was drifting in to all kinds of uncharted territory when a stinging pain in his neck brought him back to reality. "Did you jus' bite me?" Was that his voice that just cracked like that?

The Doctor could feel Riddick chuckle as he let out another breath, the warm gust of air dancing across his rapidly heating and now slightly bruised skin. "You gonna answer my question?"

The convict's voice was deep with sin and rough with arousal. Groin tightening, Theta swallowed loudly as his mouth seemed to go completely dry. A shudder he could not contain racked his body, and he could feel a part of Riddick shift in interest. Hearts thudding in panic, the Doctor reached desperately for the question, for an answer, for anything.

"I was looking for Jack and Ali," the words left him in a rush. "Reached with my mind, and found something else."

Another chuckle, the Doctor could feel the deep rumble and it left his knees weak. "Not what I asked ya, Doc?"

Another gulp, Theta shifted his head away from the other, bearing his neck in an accidental sign of submission. "Wa-wasn' it?" Dear sweet Rassilon, did he just stutter.

Riddick seemed to find that amusing as well. A hiss of slight pain and a moan of definite pleasure escaped him as the convict worried the skin just below the side of his jaw with his teeth. Words escaped his pale lips unwittingly as Riddick pushed _closer_. What was it they were talking about again?

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

"I asked," Riddick lowered his voice, moving so his lips just barely brushed the other's ear, breath ghosting over the sensitive area, "what they hell are you?"

Eyes fluttering shut, another moan of pleasure and more foreign words answered him. The language was unknown to him, and it intrigued the convict greatly. It was almost musical and Riddick wondered what other words and sounds he could pull from him.

He saw the Doctor clench his eyes tightly as he took a deep breath. He was trying to regain control again. Well, that just wouldn't do. Shifting slightly, Riddick forced a leg in between the other's shaky one as he nipped at the sensitive skin just behind the ear. Sometimes it was just too easy.

"Unngh," a tongue darted out to moisten dry lips and Riddick was tempted to follow it back into its home. Sadly it would seem history was set on repeating itself as Johns once again made them aware of his shitty timing.

His southern drawl pulled the Doctor from the pleasant haze his mind was wrapped up in. "Should I assume this isn't what it looks like either?"


	9. Chasms of Nothing

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

****AN: This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful ****CelestialMoonDragon**** who made fanvids to promote this story on youtube. I 3 U****

"_I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying.__"_

_-Oscar Wilde_

**Chasms of Nothing**

Jack sat down slowly, drinking deeply from the cup presented to her as she viewed the ones around her. The water rushed down her throat, hydrating her body with fluids she desperately needed. The others were lost in their own euphoria as cool liquid soothed aching dry throats. It was even enough to distract from the wardrobe change she had spontaneously decided upon.

The only two who didn't seem placated by the refreshing liquid was her idol Riddick, who was staring at his cup in what she guessed was disgust, and the Doctor who barely even took a sip before he nudged his glass discreetly over to the convict. She watched as Riddick raised an eyebrow in curiosity before he took the cup and set his aside where the others couldn't see. Even from across the room she could see how clouded it was with sediment and minerals.

It seemed as if he was given the water from the bottom of the container, or someone had generously added to it when Riddick wasn't looking. Jack's face scrunched up in anger, even dogs were treated better than this. She wanted to say something to let the others know that that kind of injustice wouldn't slide, but the Doctor caught her eye as the others began to hypothesize about the missing miners. He shook his head slightly and made a calming gesture with his hand.

Green eyes darted back to the dangerous man, and watched as he finished off the last of the Doctor's water and handed back the glass without the others noticing. Their fingers brushed together as the cup exchanged hands and she watched as the Doctor's chocolate brown eyes darted up to the goggled concealed ones before his cheeks started to tint. Was he…he was, the Doctor was blushing. Well this was certainly interesting.

"I know you don't prep your emergency skiff, less there's a fuckin' emergency," Riddick's deep baritone voice silenced all chatter immediately.

"He's fuckin' right," the words were out of her mouth before she even realized what had happened.

Johns cuffed her upside the head while others told her to watch her mouth. It was the Doctor's steady gaze though that made her want to take words back. He seemed to be disappointed with her word choice, though when it came from Riddick it didn't bother him. Then again, everyone was expecting it from Riddick.

She hung her head, eyes darting to the floor, but she still didn't miss the way that the man's eyes softened around the edges. It was strange, because normally it would make one look kind. Him, though, it made him look older, a lot older. It was almost a world weary kind of gaze, as if he had seen it a thousand times before and would see it many times again. What he saw in her that even let him be disappointed she didn't know, but she found herself wishing that it would never happen again.

"Come on, these people didn't leave," Riddick states, voice cutting through her confused thoughts. All eyes focused on him except the Doctor who was looking in his empty glass. "What ever got Zeke got them."

The surety in which it was spoken, the finality in which it was stated, sent a chill down her spine. Could it be true? The thought of those things getting (eating) all the colonists was…preposterous, terrifying, impossible. And yet she found herself believing.

"Please…Please!" The Imam's shout cut through the desperate chatter in the room. "Where is the little one, has anyone seen Ali?"

Jack's eyes darted around the room, landing on faces and then moving onto the next rapidly. The face she was searching for, however, was not to be found. An ominous silence fell over the group and lasted for several long seconds. It was broken by the deep baritone voice and Jack wondered if that was what the Devil sounded like before he dragged you down to Hell. The Devil would have a voice like that.

"Did anyone check the Coring Room?"

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

The empty glass shattered on the stone floor as everyone surged into action. Imam was the first out the door, followed quickly by Johns and the pilot. The Doctor wanted desperately not to care, but Ali was just a child. He could not stand idly by while a child suffered. He rushed for the open doorway, but he was halted by a firm grip on his arm.

His momentum threw him backwards into a firm chest he was becoming much too familiar with. "Let me go," he struggled, not daring to look back and become trapped in the other's hypnotizing gaze. "I have to help him."

The hand just tightened on his upper arm, pulling him more firmly against Riddick's body. "You're too late, Doc," Riddick's voice was filled with such certainty that the Doctor almost gave up his struggle, but Ali was just a child.

"I know, but you are _too late_." A gunshot echoed across the valley and the Doctor closed his eyes tightly, refusing to believe. "He's already gone; you can light a candle for him later."

Even though his tone resembled soft, the words still cut deep. It couldn't be true, the Doctor refused to believe. Was this another person he failed to save? Were the stories true? Did he only leave bloodshed and destruction in his wake?

Eyes still clutched tightly shut the Doctor reached, needing to know. He knew the consequences if the collective mind seized him but he didn't care. Damn the consequences, damn the _other_, he needed to know. He sought the child, the light that was innocence, and found a gaping chasm of nothing in its place.

Darkness surrounded his mind, filled his heart with accusations of a life not saved, filled his thoughts with memories of pasts and futures of not. The nothingness reached and pulled and tore at him, and the Doctor stood helpless as despair clawed into his mind. A broken sob tore its way out of his physical throat as the abyss washed over and tried to consume him.

His mind was pulled away effortlessly as a large hand settled on the side of his face. A different kind of darkness settled over him, but this one wasn't suffocating. It wasn't trying to bite, claw, and tear at what little sanity he had left. This darkness was almost comforting. There was something deceptively dangerous about the darkness he now found himself.

The Doctor could sense something _other_ just out of reach, brushing the barriers of his own mind. It was primitive, animal almost and deadly to the core. But the Doctor could not bring himself to fear it. His physical body relaxed into the one holding it, and the Doctor let his mind wash away and feel nothing. For the first time in nearly two centuries, the Doctor felt content.

He wished he could stay forever and bask in the protective darkness that held him. The darkness, as if sensing the other's wish, gently pushed the Doctor's mind back into reality. The Time Lord struggled only briefly before he went willingly back into the physical realm.

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

Riddick held tightly onto the struggling man as the others rushed off to save the child who had already fallen. The convict could sense the other's need to save the child but it was too late. Something in him, buried deep, didn't want the Doctor to see what the others would find. It was a new sensation, almost like compassion and Riddick hated that feeling. Even so, he held onto the Doctor tighter.

He was just a child. The thought screamed loudly in his mind, but it wasn't his. Even in his thoughts the Doctor's voice intruded upon him. Who was the one projecting now? "I know," Riddick answered him, even as he felt the anguish rolling off of him in waves. "But you are _too_ _late_."

Riddick felt the creature in his arms tense and he suddenly felt a shift. He couldn't explain it, but something had changed. "Doc," he tried, the other didn't answer him. He tried calling again, but was met with the same result. Crouching down, Riddick sat upon the floor, back propped upon the wall, and the Doctor sprawled in his lap. _'I could get used to this.'_

A sob escaped his captive and Riddick stared unknowing and confused for several seconds before he tentatively placed a hand on the side of the other's face. He braced himself preparing to meet the onslaught of thousands but found nothing instead. It was eerie and unsettling, but Riddick refused to dwell on it and instead sought the one who refused to stay in his own fucking mind.

It didn't take him long to find the Doctor, in a sea of nothing he certainly stood out. Riddick seized him and pulled him back quickly away from the chasm of unknown. But the convict had never been a situation like this before and pulled too far. Before he knew it, the Doctor had slipped into his own mind.

Riddick lay unmoving for several minutes as he felt another's consciousness _in_ his mind. It wasn't like before, when their minds had touched, it felt deeper, more personal. Something in Riddick rumbled in contentment as he felt the Doctor relax. The strange being seemed to find his mind comforting. It was another feeling the convict was unused to, but one he felt he could learn to enjoy.

He let the Doctor rest a while longer before he tried to ease the other's mind from his own like the storm had done to his not too long ago. The Doctor only struggled briefly before leaving on his own accord. When Riddick opened eyes in which he was unaware he closed, he discovered that little to no time had passed. A frown marred his features; it had felt like an eternity had passed, but the shadows had hardly moved at all.

The Doctor shifted in his lap and his mind was drawn to more immediate problems. Somewhere, far in the back of his mind, the beast rumbled in affection. A _cold_ hand touched his arm as the Doctor propped himself up and looked around in confusion. A mischievous smirk danced across the convict's lips at the reoccurring theme. "Comfy, Doctor?"


End file.
